


The Alphabet of Roadrat

by SenkoWakimarin



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-09-02 07:10:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 1,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8655409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SenkoWakimarin/pseuds/SenkoWakimarin
Summary: Twenty-six short stories peeking in on the relationship between Junkrat and Roadhog, each inspired by a letter of the English alphabet.





	1. A is for Acatalepsy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Acatalepsy is the unknowableness of all things to a certainty.

It was hard to deal, sometimes, with how intensely he felt for Roadhog. He had never meant to feel anything for the big, quiet beast of a man; he’d barely been comfortable with his decision to employ the ex-Enforcer. In the beginning, every absent touch from the larger man had sent Jamie hissing and spitting across camp, on edge and ready to fight.

Months later, he was pinned under that massive frame, bullets raining around them, feeling them slam into Hog’s flesh as every new wound made the big man jerk. And he realized, squirming to get his frag launcher loaded so he could spring out and blast the drongos shooting up his bodyguard, that all he wanted in that moment was to stop Hog from getting hurt. To protect him the same way the big man protected him.

They’d fucked, they’d kissed, they’d tended each other’s wounds. But they never _said_ anything. And that scared Rat. There were supposed to be words, right, tender words, pretty words, the kind of words that meant they’d stay together.

Yet Junkrat couldn’t bring himself to be the one to say those words. Because there was always a chance Hog didn’t feel the same, however else the signs might point. There was no way to _know_ , and Rat hated that almost as much as he loved Hog.


	2. B is for Blandish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blandish means to flatter or coax.

Loathe though he is to admit it, Roadhog isn’t a young man anymore, and it’s hard sometimes to keep up with his enthusiastic employer.

They’re so close to one another it amazes him, so in sync on almost every level. It blows him away how well they work together and how easily they move around one another, never stepping on toes or getting much in the other’s way. They have each other’s back, which is new and terrifying, that kind of trust not something Roadhog is used to giving or receiving.

Of course, they have moments where synchrony was thrown to the wind. Surprisingly few have ever occurred in critical moments, on the battlefield or during a major heist. It’s almost always little stuff they clash on, and Roadhog supposes that’s its own kind of blessing.

Mostly the problem is just that Junkrat wants to keep going long after Roadhog is ready to call for at least a rest.

“C’mon Hoggy-me-heart,” he younger man purrs, leaning against his gut, fingers toying with the barb piercing his nipple. “One more round, I’ll go right t’ sleep. I need ya.”

A cute sentiment, but he’d already fucked the younger man twice. He didn’t think he had it in him to go again.

“You’re the best lay a guy could ask for,” Rat continues, leaning in to nip and lick at his nipple, “A right gem, a diamond, a fuckin crown a diamonds, just absolute perfection –”

“Okay,” Roadhog grunted, pushing the smaller body off him, rolling to pin Rat down on the bare earth. “Okay, fine.”

Anything to make the saccharine rambling quit.


	3. C is for Clamancy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clamancy means urgency.

****“I love you,” he says, breathless and urgent as he tries to help Roadhog slide gently to the floor, failing badly. They both go down hard, the weight of Hog’s arm dragging Rat right down with him, his back aching as he lands on one knee – not the metal one. Hog’s breathing is ragged and uneven, the wounds punched in his back wide and horrible to look at. “Don’t leave me here, Hoggy, I love ya, we got so much more t’ see t’gether, so much more t’ share, don’t go…”

But there’s not always an easy choice in that, and Junkrat knows it all too well. He can hear their pursuers drawing closer, and his heart is skip-jumping in his chest, jackrabbit scared. He looks up, worried, and Hog grabs him by the harness, pulling him close. There’s a tear in the mask, left by a bullet’s graze, just enough for Rat to see the hint of tan flesh, blue-black tattoo.

“Give ‘em hell,” Hog snarls, and there’s something wet in his voice that both disgusts and infuriates Jamie. It’s a weakness and a signal of how bad those fuckers hurt his bodyguard. He hates it.

It takes him longer than he’d like to round them all up, herding the unfortunate bounty hunters one by one into traps and picking them off. By the time he finds their stash of supplies, he’s crying, not caring if anyone sees. He’s lost so many people in his short life, but he’s never lost a lover and he’s certain that Hog will be just so much cooling meat by the time he gets back to him with the Hogdrogen.

He utters a little prayer of thanks to the vague concept of God he recognizes when he gets back and Hog is laying right where he left him, bleeding but still breathing.

The Hogdrogen works it’s magic in a matter of minutes, leaving Roadie lightheaded and wincing but far from death’s door. Junkrat lunges into his arms, knocking the big man back and earning a little chuckle. One massive hand strokes over the knobs of his spine, and Hog takes a shuttering breath. “You mean what you said?” he asks.

Turning his head to kiss at the place where leather and flesh meet, Rat laughs wildly. “Yeah,” he said, waiting to be pushed away. “Yeah, guess I did, even if ya scared me half to death.”

Roadhog utters a little hum, considering, but says nothing more, merely holds Rat where he is, stroking one big hand over his back. It’s not the warm reciprocation Rat might have hoped for, but it’s not rejection. He’ll take it, oh yes.

He’ll take whatever Roadie’s willing to give.


	4. D is for Dragonism

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dragonism means unrelenting watchfulness.

Roadhog was often tired, and not for the reason most people would think.

It wasn’t Junkrat’s boundless energy that drained him and soured his mood – quite the opposite. He loved Junkrat’s ceaseless liveliness and found that it often helped perk him up during the day, keeping him on his toes when he might otherwise have flagged. Traveling by day was still a novelty to them both, and there were still times when they had to stop and rest, both exhausted and in need of a little _siesta._

But Roadhog is always watching. Even when they rest, he doesn’t let himself drift into too deep of a sleep, always listening, ready for anything. There will come a day when they don’t react fast enough to react when cops or bounty hunters show up – it’s just mathematically logical – but they won’t be caught off guard for lack of Roadhog’s attention. He’s always on guard, protecting something that has become more important to him than all the riches the world could offer.

And in the darkest parts of the night, long after Rat has finally settled in and curled up for his own deep and dreaming sleep, Roadhog stirs himself and takes up that long guard. He watches the light slowly creep back into the world, feeling like some great ancient beast guarding its treasure horde.


	5. E is for Echolalia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Echolalia means the echo-like repeating of another’s words.
> 
> (E is for Eventually I Come Back)

For the most part, Rat doesn’t shut up.

Any given day, he’s talking up a storm, chatting up Roadhog and outlining some plan, pointing out the weather or the road conditions, practicing key phrases in new languages. He doesn’t like silence, is all it boils down to, would rather babble out the lyrics to the latest pop tune than sit in silence.

The only exception is when he’s working on his equipment. He has a grenade strewn out in front of him – Hog only recognizes it by the layout, which is the same each time for this particular project; frags have their own pattern, his limbs each their own – and those mad amber eyes are fixed on the movements of the pieces as he wends together Something from Nothing. He doesn’t speak unless Hog talks, and then only to repeat something back in emphasis.

It’s an unusual means of communication, but it works.

“You want supper, Boss?”

“Mmh. Want supper.”

“Canned beans ‘n peaches?”

“ _Peaches_.”

“Beans first, ‘kay?”

A huff, but no argument. “Kay.”

It’s strange to be the one who speaks more in any situation, but Hog is surprised to find it doesn’t bother him. It’s actually sort of endearing.


	6. F is for Festinate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Festinate means to accelerate.

Rat likes anything dangerous. Bombs, heists, Roadhog; if it could kill him, he loves it. The bike is no different. He loves sitting, sometimes standing, in the sidecar as they speed across the desert, breathing in kicked up dirt like its smoke and laughing.

He’s exultant and delighted and gleeful; standing in his side car he can see forever before them, can watch in uninterrupted detail the slow flex and bunch of Hog’s well-muscled arms as he steers the bike. They’re always going fast, and he knows ol’ Hoggy worries one day he’ll go flying out of the car if he keeps this shit up, but he’s young and hale and going to live forever.

“Siddown,” Hog eventually barks, and he does, he complies, but not without a little hesitance. Because the air is different down here, the way it slashes his face and riffles his hair. Because it’s not scary like this, not frightening in that delightful, bone-burning way he loves.

“Go faster!” He yells back, and because he’s been good, because he’s listened, Hog obeys, revving the engine and making it snarl as they hasten down the road, fleeing into a future rife with dangerous possibility.


End file.
